


oh, i'm a believer

by loveglasses



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Flowers, M/M, flower shop, very gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-06 18:17:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16837849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveglasses/pseuds/loveglasses
Summary: or, combeferre walks into a flower shop and changes both his and grantaire's lives forever.





	1. i thought love was only true in fairy tales

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ldimplesl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ldimplesl/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! this was a les mis holiday exchange work for ldimplesl!  
> this was chaotically finished at 12/12/18 and the due date was 12/15/18 (or 15/12/18 if you're a d/m/y person). any comments pointing out grammar, tense, spelling, or any other inconsistencies or mistakes are very appreciated!  
> the story title and all chapter titles are taken from the song "i'm a believer" by the monkees.  
> hope you enjoy!

Damnit.

This is pretty much the only word Combeferre can think of right now. Not even other expletives, just damnit.

He should probably explain the context to himself since he can't even think properly right now.

It's the day before his mom's birthday, and he has to leave soon. And, unfortunately, he never did order those flowers off of that too-expensive website. So, now, he's turning into the parking lot of his last resort.

He's not sure if the vibe is quite right for his soon-to-be 53-year-old mom, but he needs to get something. He parks and turns the engine off. Anything will have to do.

He gets out of his car and walks into the shop. He's bombarded by simplistic and minimalist arrangements of flowers in porcelain vases, and there are other products on display to compliment the shop and its aura. Combeferre looks at the person at the register.

Holy shit. This person is handsome. He looks away from the register and around the shop while he's walking up to the register, but Combeferre can't get the guy out of his head.

The guy says, "How can I help you today?"

Combeferre notices that the guy's tone is kind and not fake, like some people. He swallows any doubts he has.

"Uh, I have no idea what flower, but I have a vibe that I'm going for. Do you think that you could help me based on the vibe?" Combeferre asks.

The guy nods. "Vibes are very doable. Hit me with your best or worst shot."

And now, Combeferre has to trade his nervousness for ease because jokes are his Achilles heel.

"Alright. A gift for my mom's 53rd birthday? Think a white mom in the 1950s crossed with Ella Fitzgerald."

"That's very specific." The guy pauses to laugh a little bit. "But I can do that. So, I'm going to add baby's breath. It's a very 'mom in the 1950's' kind of flower. I'm thinking that yellow would fit, so I'm adding some yellow tulips. Leafy stalks to balance the entire thing out, and done." The guy lays the selections on the table. The dude has some major analyzing powers. If this encounter is going to be any longer (which of course it was, Combeferre hasn't even seen a vase for the flowers yet), he's going to have a whole alphabet filled with adjectives to describe this dude. It's been maybe five or six minutes.

He gets interrupted from his thoughts by the sight in front of him. The guy is arranging the flowers in a careful, masterful way in the vase. It reminds Combeferre of the rare Lindt chocolate commercials on television, with the satisfying chocolate and dripping and the chefs carefully preparing the chocolate.

"Here you go. That will be 18 dollars and 34 cents," the guy says.

Combeferre hands his crispest twenty dollar bill.

"What's your name?" he asks in a friendly tone.

"Clever. I like to cuddle," the dude replies with a smile on his face.

Combeferre is speechless. In a good way, of course, but already? What's going on?

"I'm kidding. My name's Rene, but I'd rather be called either Grantaire or R," Grantaire/R says. "What about you?"

"My name is horribly old-fashioned. I barely use it anymore. Call me Combeferre," Combeferre replies.

"Alright, Combeferre. Here's my card." Grantaire/R (Combeferre hasn't decided yet) hands him the card. "The bottom number is my cell phone number. Call or text me sometime. And by some time, that limits 1 in the morning to 7 in the morning for calls because I am probably either drunk or tired. Texts are fine, as long as they're just 'hi' texts," he says. Combeferre laughs and nods.

"Sure. I'm not sure about calling, but I'm definitely going to text you," Combeferre replies. "Bye!"

"Bye. Have a great day!" Grantaire says.

Combeferre leaves the flower shop with a dumb smile on his face and his flowers.

* * *

  
The "party" goes without a hitch. His mom's friends are there, his sister is there, and his aunt has even arrived. (Combeferre's dad has backed off to keep it female-only minus Combeferre.)

Combeferre thinks that he's fallen in love with the flower arranger. It bothers him all weekend. It seems that he's seeing the memory through rose-tinted glasses, but he doesn't mind. He's constantly thinking of him whenever he has the chance.

And he brings this obsession back home with him. He both congratulates and curses himself for falling in love with Grantaire. R? Damnit! He needs to decide.

Eventually, after throwing himself into his work during his work hours, he's finding himself to be handicapped with love and pining. He always thinks of Grantaire whenever he goes into anywhere that remotely is related to flowers. (He decides on Grantaire. He thinks that R makes Grantaire seem like a dirty secret, and Grantaire is not a dirty secret in the slightest. So, Grantaire it is.) Every flower arrangement, he sees, real or fake, (which is surprisingly a lot) he gets nostalgic over Grantaire's and his first meeting. Every time that he drives by the shop (which is a lot because he lives close to the shop), a stupidly fond smile manages to find its way to his face. But because of this, he decides to stay rigidly sober. Even when _Enjolras_ of all people offers him a glass of wine at the Amis meeting, he declines with a polite smile. Combeferre is doing this for a reason. He doesn't want to reveal his secrets and troubles out to the world. He still wants to be calm, collected Combeferre that everyone knows, not a middle school girl romanticizing her crush. Besides, being drunk is bad for your liver. Combeferre does not want to die of a ruined liver, so he decides to not drink!

The possibility hits him like a truck. He can't believe that he hasn't thought of it before, but Grantaire might be straight. He mentally facepalms himself. God, he is so stupid! Not only does he have an unrequited crush, but he also has an unrequited crush on a straight person. Isn't he out of high school yet?

He has to admit to himself that this secret is making him go crazy. So, he has to reveal it. And who better to reveal it to than to a group chat? The specific group chat he was thinking of was of the one with Courfeyrac, Jehan, and Joly. It's currently called _2c+2j_ , which came from a simple realization that people in the group had similar initials. 

Combeferre sends a simple, vague message.

_so, uh, something's been bothering me. i really need someone to talk to about it._

Joly is the first to reply, but his reply is nowhere close to the subject matter.

_You better not have a drug addiction._

Combeferre quickly texts back.

_no, no! since you couldn't figure it out, let's just say it starts with l._

Courfeyrac then replies.

_lesbian?_

Combeferre laughs, and then types his response. He sends it.

_no. try again._

Jehan then comes into the conversation.

_Lesbians?_

Courfeyrac responds.

_you little shit. that was my line._

Combeferre sighs and rolls his eyes in a fond manner. He knows that his friends could be competitive for no real reason. 

He starts to type.

_guys, i don't_

He's interrupted by Courfeyrac texting again.

_(well since you took my line i'm taking yours/ferre's) it's love, scott. i wasn't trying to trick ya._

Combeferre finishes his texts and sends it.

_guys, i don't get it at all. what are you talking about? is this a reference? what is this a reference to?_

Jehan immediately replies. 

_You haven't seen Scott Pilgrim vs the World? You are an uncultured swine!_

There's a pig emoji at the end of Jehan's text. 

Courfeyrac replies again.

_true on that. i had to get this guy to watch mean girls with me a WEEK ago._

Joly sends a bunch of shocked emojis in one text. He follows this text with one with words.

_How dare you, Ferre! Mean Girls is art. Cady is hot, and Damian's relatable._

Combeferre sends the group chat an assuring text.

_i've watched it now. chill. also, janis is also hella relatable. but tbh, cady's only lowkey hot_

He thinks for a second, and then he grins. He's probably started a war against Joly in the group chat, but it's just more of a reason to smile maniacally.

_Excuse me, but both 'Chetta and Bossuet think that Cady Heron is very hot, so you're wrong._

Courfeyrac sends his two cents. 

_gotta agree with ferre on this one. sorry, joly._

Jehan responds as well.

_I also agree with Combeferre._

It erupts into a full-out war, with only Joly to protect himself.

Eventually, Joly has to go, and the group chat is peaceful for a moment. 

After a couple of minutes pass, a text appears on Combeferre's phone. He's somewhat mad (as he's started loading his laundry into the dryer), but he looks at it anyway.

_we are the victors._

Then, a text form Joly's phone arrives. But it's not Joly who sends it.

_i s2g i'm trying to advance joly in word cookies and then i see his groupchat in which four fucking grown men are arguing if a main character in a chick flick is hot or not.which she is. but come on. seriously. (also appreciate that i took the time to turn autocorrect off on joly's phone to type this)_

Courfeyrac replies quickly to this retort.

_musichetta, i'm sorry, but yes we are very serious in this group chat._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! hope you enjoy the next chapter!
> 
> (quick note : listen to the gavroche from the original french recording of "donnez, donnez" (look down) and the french equivalent of "little people. that gavroche is literally the best gavroche ever. and it doesn't use that cheesy-ass keyboard thing that the original english recording has. you know what i'm talking about.)
> 
> (quick note 2.0 : since i've never read the brick, "donnez, donnez" was helpful! it included the patron-minette, which i wished the english version would've done, but unfortunately, it didn't.)


	2. Grantaire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> or, grantaire is in love and it comes to bite him in the ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was written out very hastily so i apologize for any spelling/grammar mistakes (though those should've been caught by grammarly.) anyways, hope you enjoy!

Grantaire isn't stuck on the dude that came into the shop on Friday.

He's lying to himself, and he's watched enough "Adam Ruins Everything" to know that repeating a fake mantra won't work.

He didn't get Combeferre's number (which sucks), but Combeferre has his number (which does not suck).

So, when Grantaire's not working and it's not 1 in the morning to 7 in the morning (OK, maybe even during those times as well), he's checking his phone to see if Combeferre calls.

He really hopes that Combeferre calls.

He isn't (and never has been or will ever be) one of those 11:11 believers, but he starts looking forward to 11:11 to start wishing. He reasons that it can't hurt. So he wishes.

Éponine tells him the typical love shit when they're drinking, as well as what got her into a relationship.

"Just think that you won't get with him," she says. She grins. "Reverse psychology. Works every time."

Grantaire doesn't really think that it works every time. It might have worked for her (and her cute, Tumblr sapphic relationship with Cosette), but it probably won't work for him. Dissenting statements are dissenting statements. For him, everything equals negative. It's terrible, but that's just how Grantaire's learned to live his life.

As he comes back to the moment in time that he's in, Grantaire fiddles with a pen. H's flicking it back and forth and doing all sorts of stupid middle school tricks with his pen. It's not busy in the shop right now. In fact, the shop is actually empty except for his boss/the owner of the shop, Mabeuf, who was in the back. And Grantaire was in the shop, of course.

And of course, just to fuck him over and/or bless him supremely, Combeferre walks into the shop. Grantaire stares. Combeferre is somehow both cuter and hotter than the last time he was here, which is extremely unfair.

"Hey, Grantaire!" Combeferre brightly says and oh fuck, he's going to melt, no, die of happiness and relief because he is here, at last!

"Hi, Combeferre," he replies cheerily. He only projects what he thinks is a bashful grin. "What brings you back so soon?"

"Oh, you know, it's a rather routine day, and I got off of work early. I want to shake up my day a little. Have some fun! Peruse a flower shop!" Combeferre says in response to Grantaire's question. Grantaire laughs, and he almost giggles. God, he's got to stop.

"Now, why exactly this flower shop? What are the perusable qualities?" Grantaire asks, somewhat jokingly.

"You're asking me too many questions. I'm kind of scared that you're an FBI agent. Or operative. Whatever," Combeferre says, laughing after. "But, to reply to your unsuspicious question, I chose this flower shop because it's a big flower shop. But it's also cute and indie. I love that."

"You're the one who's perusing the flower shop that I'm working in! I should be worried about that. But I don't work for the FBI. I hope that you don't either because I don't know what I did wrong," Grantaire says.

"Hmm, very interesting." Combeferre breaks out into laughter again. "No, I'm a doctor."

"Ah, so you're rich?" Grantaire asks.

"In scholarships, yes. My family is somewhat middle class, though," Combeferre replies.

Grantaire snorts. Then he realizes something. It's trivial, but it's something. Everytime that he's met Combeferre, he's laughed. And the laughing is caused by laughing with him. That feels pretty good.

"Anyways, if you have any question about anything in the shop, I'm happy to help you," Grantaire says. He sighs at himself. He had to ruin it.

"Aw, already? I just started talking to you!" Combeferre jokes. Or, at least Grantaire thinks he's joking.

"Go. Peruse the flower shop. Shake up your life," Grantaire shoos. He thinks that he kind of sounds like a mom, but he shakes that off. (Figuratively.)

"OK, fine," Combeferre says. Grantaire thinks that Combeferre sounds... dejected? Combeferre goes to the front of the shop, and he starts looking at one of the many perfume displays that Grantaire's set up in the past.

Grantaire's proud of this particular perfume display. When he first set it up for Mabeuf, it took him hours to figure it out and organize it. But now he just restocks it without a second thought.

"Grantaire, did you do this?" Combeferre asks, snapping Grantaire out of his thoughts.

"Yeah, I did," Grantaire replies. He knows that it's old and a bit dusty, but it's still his pride and joy.

"It's amazing," Combeferre drops his voice to what Grantaire thinks is an awe-filled whisper while saying that.

"Thanks." Grantaire allows himself a small, prideful smile.

"No problem," Combeferresays. Grantaire watches Combeferr take out his phone and snap a picture of that perfume display. Then he watches Combeferre (presumably) text it. He knows it's a bit creepy to watch, but to be fair, there's almost nothing else to do.

Grantaire decides to go to the back. He breathes a deep a breath that he didn't even know that he was holding

"Troublesome customer?" Mabeuf asks in his gentle, grandpa way.

"Not quite in the way that you may think." Grantaire sighs again.

"I know that sigh. Don't let him get to your mind too much," Mabeuf advises.

"I already have. And how do you know that it's a male that I am attracted to?" Grantaire says.

"You told me that you were gay," Mabeuf points out.

Grantaire attempts to recall this event. Maybe he was severely hungover.

"OK," Grantaire says. He goes to the front again to see Combeferre. He wouldn't struggle against an accidental confession, but he really hopes that Combeferre didn't hear the conversation.

It seems that Combeferre's had his fair share of perusing in the time that Grantaire's been gone. Combeferre is on the other side of the room, nursing a book about zinnias and reading it.

Grantaire smiles. "Is the perusing going well?"

Combeferre is immersed in the book, so Grantaire thinks he looks shocked. "Yeah!"

Combeferre walks up to the register with a book.

"Didn't know that you were a zinnia guy," Grantaire remarks.

"I'm not." Combeferre sets the book down on the register. "My neighbors are. Zinnias are pretty, however, I'm a hyacinth guy. Or maybe a green carnation kind of guy."

Grantaire almost had to think about it. Hyakinthos was involved in a relationship between Apollo and Zephyrus. Both were males. When he died due to jealousy, Apollo's grief created the hyacinth. Green carnations were popularized by Oscar Wilde, a gay man. Yes! He swallows and continues.

"Yeah!" he nervously says. "Those are beautiful."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! in the next chapter, i will make this pining pain end.
> 
> ok, so i saw this post on tumblr about how patron-minette means boss kitty  
> but i searched it up and google translate says it means boss puss, which basically means boss kitty  
> but this makes this 100000x better  
> bc "maman didn't raise no boss pussy... wait...."  
> (yeah i know that it's a pun bc victor hugo is a cheeky person shut up)


	3. not a trace of doubt in my mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> or, the pining finally ends. but it gets a tiny bit worse before it gets better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello and welcome to the panicked final chapter of this story  
> as always, catching mistakes is always very nice so if you do catch one, tell me in the comments!

Combeferre cannot believe the stunt that he just pulled off. He decides to text the group chat, which is now his "support group" in a way. (Actually, it was definitely his support group. Jehan changed the name to "Combeferre's Support Group," so it was 98% official.)

He types his text in and sends it.

_so guess what i did_

Joly replies quickly while Combeferre gets in his car.

_Let me guess, you're invited on a date._

Combeferre sends a thumbs down emoji in the dark tone.

_but i somewhat came out to him. i think that he got the message, which must mean that he is either into men in some shape or form or he spends too much time on wikipedia._

Joly sends a response.

_That's better than nothing, I guess?_

Courfeyrac texts the obvious response.

_tell us! tell us! what happened? spill all of the tea. give us 110% of the details. is my boy ferre finally getting a boyfriend?_

Combeferre raises his eyebrow and types his response.

_you dare doubt my boyfriend abilities, courf? ok, well, you know how he works in a flower shop? (of course, you do i told you this like 100000 times) i got this zinnia book (because i'm constantly afraid of killing my neighbors' zinnias whenever they travel). so, at checkout, he comments on how he thought i wasn't a zinnia guy, and my cheeky ass decides to respond with how i was a hyacinth/green carnation dude and he got all blushy and adorable. that's what happened. that's the tea._

Courfeyrac replies.

wow that was a long text

Combeferre grins, and texts back.

_what'd you expect? you told me to tell you all of the details_

Courfeyrac replies, and Combeferre thinks it was out of exasperation.

_YEAH BUT OVER MULTIPLE TEXTS_

Combeferre grins. Jehan soon comes into the conversation.

_Congratulations, Combeferre! Now all you need to do is tell him your feelings._

Combeferre sighs. That wiped the grin off of his face.

_yeah that's easier said than done_

Courfeyrac sends a text.

_what do you mean? you're both gay, he thinks that you're hot (probably), and you're meant for each other. just ask him out!!!!!_

Combeferre sighs.

_it's not that easy, courf._

Courfeyrac replies.

_says who?_

Combeferre starts the engine and turns his phone on to _Wait Wait, Don't Tell Me._

He's damn lucky that his house is close by this flower shop.

* * *

Once he gets back to his house, he gets the zinnia book and unlocks the door. He closes the door and takes his shoes off. Then, he walks over to his couch and flops onto it.

Today's been a long day. Combeferre things he deserves a drink of some sorts. But what type of drink to get? What type of drunk to be? Other than being drunk in solitude, Combeferre couldn't think of any other options. He turns his phone off so that he won't make stupid decisions. Maybe being a logical, barely tipsy drunk would be a good idea. He gets a bottle of wine and pours it into a glass. He drinks the wine carefully while turning on the TV and mindlessly going through the options.

God, he needs to thank himself for not cutting his cable yet. He didn't want to actually go through a show he liked.

In the end, he settles for watching _Guy's Grocery Games._ It's just the right amount of hilarious and flamboyant, as well as spontaneous, to get Combeferre laughing alone. It's great fun to watch.

He finishes the bottle of wine eventually and goes to bed. Someone needs to tell him that thing are going OK. That he's doing this to enjoy this.

He sighs before rolling over. It takes him a while, but Combeferre forces himself to think of nothing and fall asleep.

* * *

9 to 5 jobs are pretty bad. But living in his job is stressful. He has a varied workload per day. Yesterday was an easy day. Today, Combeferre has patients lined up to five o' clock, as well as going to the hospital. But, more patients means more paperwork. More paperwork means less slacking off.

He throws himself into his work and caring for his patients. At lunchtime, he gives himself time to think and be human again.

 _Grantaire._ Right. He needs to do something or say something or else he'll miss his chance. He goes through the possibility in his brain and he's horrified. He never wants that to happen. There's little chance that "Combeferre's Support Group" have the ae lunch break as he does, so he refrains from texting the group chat. But this thing is bothering him a lot. He desperately needs to do something about it. Get it all off of his chest.

So he texts Grantaire.

_hey! i'd like to meet outside of your workplace. what would work?_

He makes sure that the text sends to Grantaire before Combeferre puts his phone away.

Then, the reality of the situation hits him like a 10-ton truck. Combeferre has just asked Grantaire on a date. (Maybe not quite a date, but it was a date nonetheless.)

Grantaire replies soon.

_uh, yeah, sure! place and time?_

Combeferre has an idea.

_how does 8:00 pm on wednesday work? then we can think of places. :)_

Combeferre gets another reply soon.

_old school emoticons? classy. yeah, that works!_

Combeferre grins, and types his reply.

_great! yeah, i'm just so classy that i think we should go to bread+bar._

Grantaire sends a thumbs up emoji. Combeferre probably has a huge, dopey smile on his face.

After all, what is there not to smile about?

* * *

"Do I look good?" Combeferre asks on the group FaceTime.

"Absolutely stunning!" Jehan says enthusiastically.

Combeferre sheepishly smiles. "Thanks, Jehan!"

Jehan also smiles. "No problem!"

"OK, beard trimmed, outfit amazing, glasses or contacts?" Courfeyrac quickly says.

"Um, I don't know. What will make a better impression?" Combeferre replies.

Joly, who's with Bossuet and Musichetta behind the camera, chuckles. "Don't you need to see? I personally think that matters more."

"Well, yeah. But my contacts have the new prescription. However, Grantaire's already seen me with my glasses on, so I'm going with my glasses," Combeferre says.

"Cologne?" Courfeyrac asks with a knowing smile on his face.

"Just a little bit on my arm," Combeferre replies. "Hold on."

He goes to his dresser to search for the best smelling cologne that he has. He spritzes it a couple times on his arms.

"Damn, I wish my partners could only spritz cologne twice," Musichetta says with an accusing tone.

"'Chetta, it's not my fault that the top came off and the entire bottle spilled on me!" Bossuet retorts.

Combeferre laughs as he puts the cologne away. He gets back to his phone.

"I think that I'm ready," Combeferre says.

"Go get your man," Courfeyrac says. This is met by cheers and echoes of what Courfeyrac said by everyone else.

* * *

Combeferre sighs to calm his nerves. He goes into his garage and to his car.

He set the navigation to _bread+bar_ (which he usually calls "Bread Bar" because he disregards the plus sign most of the time). NPR is playing in the background, so he decides to listen in.

It's a story about love, coincidentally. More specifically, about how love has grown throughout generations of families, and how love has struck out in the most unusual ways. How love has distinguished people, and brought people together and apart. How love could be at first sight or grow throughout many years. Combeferre finds it inspirational. He takes away that true love hasn't changed throughout everything. He ponders as the radio gives traffic updates. He's almost at Bread Bar. Combeferre looks at the time. It's 7:50, and Combeferre is happier than he could ever think that he could be.

He pulls into the parking lot and parks. He opens the car door and looks at his phone. He notices tons of texts with an underlying message of "good luck." He knows that he has this.

He gets out of the car and shuts the door. He confidently walks into the restaurant. At 7:55, Grantaire arrives, looking more amazing than he had the last time that Combeferre saw him. Combeferre waves. Grantaire hugs him.

"I figured that it's too soon to start with kisses or 'I love you's,'" Grantaire whispers into Combeferre's ears. They separate.

"I'm fine with those as long as you are," Combeferre replies.

"OK."

Combeferre steps up to the station where he could check in. "Hi, an 8 o'clock reservation for 2. The name is Ferre."

"Your table will be ready in a moment," the lady says cheerfully.

In fact, the table is ready in less than a moment. The lady sits them down at a nice table in the corner, secluded from families.

"Wow. This is really nice," Grantaire comments.

"Yeah, it is," Combeferre replies.

"Anyways, food," Grantairesays. He opens the menu and Combeferre does the same.

"Deep fried mushrooms!" Combeferre says in delight."

"What?" Grantaire asks.

"They're so good. They're salty and amazing, and it's one of life's rare pleasure," Combeferre explains.

"Ah. I was thinking of getting a veggie burger or something," Grantaire says.

"That's cool," Combeferre replies.

They're in awkward silence until Combeferre breaks it.

"This is really cliche, but what's your favorite color?" Combeferre asks.

"20 questions? And denim blue. It's such a pretty color. ¿Y tú, Combeferre?" Grantaire says.

"Pine green. It's a very expressive color. Opinion on Love, Simon?" Combeferre asks.

"Love it but it's a guilty pleasure. The book is far superior. What do you do for a living?"

"Physician-ing." Combeferre grins. "The book is so much better. Um, what would you bring to a deserted island."

"One giant suitcase with my stuff in it," Grantaire says. "Cliche, but if you were to have a superpower, what would it be?"

"To have anything I actually want. That way, I could have every superpower," Combeferre replies.

"Ladies and gentlemen, my soulmate," Grantaire says somewhat loudly. No one really pays attention to him, but it makes Combeferre both blush and chuckle at the same time.

* * *

"We have to go already?" Grantaire asks.

"Unfortunately," Combeferre responds. "Hey, didn't you already use all 20 of your questions?"

"Yeah. But I really don't want to leave. It's been such a wonderful night. Thank you for that, by the way."

"No, thank you for making it amazing."

They stand in the parking lot, hesitating to move. This is it. This is his chance.

"Can I kiss you?" Combeferre quietly asks.

"Of course," Grantaire responds.

They kiss. The angle is awkward at first, but they correct it and it's like heaven. It feels like the Earth has stopped moving for this moment staying still and quiet.

And then they let go.

"God that was good," Combeferre says. "You're an amazing kisser."

"That's a lie and you know it. You're a superior kisser to me," Grantaire replies.

"Lies," Combeferre says. He grins. "Bye."

Their faces turn somber.

"Goodbye," Grantaire says.

And Combeferre leaves with a somehow wider smile and a lighter heart than before. He's the luckiest man in the world. And he can't wait to see Grantaire again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so so so so so much for reading!  
> so this was initially finished on 12/12/18 and this was due on 12/15/18 (or 15/12/18 if you use day/month/year) and was hurriedly edited. if i made a grammar/tense/any mistake, please tell me in the comments. (please note that i can't reply until the creators are revealed. if you catch a mistake before then, please know that you are thanked, but i can't say anything in fear of being revealed!)


End file.
